Excerpt
Excerpt

“What do you want Investigator Sherman?” Brianna asked, directing her statement to him, since Tom Harrison appeared to be just an observer. Brianna blocked the door with her body when Sherman looked ready to walk over or around her.

She suspected this was about the letter she had mailed, although she couldn’t figure out how they traced it to her. Discussing its contents was the last thing she wanted to do. If her psychic abilities became public, her life would become a circus.

Sherman reached inside an inner jacket pocket and extracted a letter Brianna recognized instantly. She held a pose of indifference, trying to pretend she never saw the letter before.

“Are you familiar with this letter?” he asked. Before she could answer, he sounded off. “Don’t deny it. We’ve put considerable time in tracing it back to this address. I know you sent the letter.”

The silent partner shifted his feet and looked ill at ease. He knew David had transferred recently from a big city police department where he was a detective dealing with street hoodlums, gangsters and criminals of every caliber. It was a tough job and easily produced calloused detectives; however, he would soon learn this wasn’t the big city, and being a tough guy wouldn’t work so well with most Oakwood people who lived decent lives with nothing to fear from the law.

Brianna sniffed defensively. If he wanted answers, he wasn’t taking the right approach with her. “Is my name on the letter?” she snapped, offended by such an aggressive manner.

“No…”

“Then I didn’t write it,” she asserted boldly, her chin tilted upward with daring.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “…but the mail carrier saw the return address was left off, so she jotted your address on the envelope.”

“Isn’t there a law against tampering with someone’s mail? What if someone else put it in my box to be mailed?” she demanded querulously.

“But we know no one else did, don’t we?” he mimicked with a smirk. “Anyway, with the Anthrax scares we’ve had, the postal department likes to know the letter sender’s name, so that’s why the mail carrier jotted your address on it. She could have refused to accept it.”

Brianna’s heart rate increased with rising defenses. At that moment, her best defense was an offense. “What difference does it make who sent it? The idea was for the Sheriff’s Department to do their job and investigate the man who killed his best friend, rather than wasting time investigating the source of a letter.”

Frowning, he pushed past her and stepped inside. His silent partner followed up the rear. The front door opened directly into the living room, and he moved over to stand in front of a stuffed chair. The silent partner stood by the door, his arms wrapped across his chest and his legs slightly parted, looking a little like a genie who just floated out of his bottle. All he needed was a turban to complete the effect.

“May I?” Investigator Sherman asked, indicating the chair.

“By all means make your self comfortable,” Brianna retorted ungraciously.

Despite the intended insult, Sherman smiled. “Miss Taylor, I’m not here to waste your time or mine, so if you’ll just answer a few questions I can let you go back to what you were doing.”

Brianna glanced through the wide doorway to the dining table where her computer set. The article she was working on was nearly finished and ready for submitting to the magazine where she sold her seasonal articles about the river.

Wanting to get the interview over with, she took a seat on the sofa, all the while feeling anxiety take over. She had to fight for control to keep from squirming in her seat. She was picking up vibes from Investigator Sherman, a tough guy who liked to use tough tactics to get what he wanted.

Brianna was nervous with good reason. If word got out how she knew who murdered that man described in her letter she feared the consequences could be treacherous. People probably wouldn’t believe her, and would likely make her the laughing stock of everyone who knew her. On the other hand, curiosity seekers could invade her privacy and make her life miserable.